


A Broadcast From Her Bones

by Gabu



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Domestic Violence, Headcanon, PTSD, Reminiscing, Suicide, Trauma, veteran
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-22 14:44:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6083454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabu/pseuds/Gabu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of all the days she was thinking of telling them about this aspect of her life, why did it have to be the day before the anniversary?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Broadcast From Her Bones

If there was one thing Wendy Corduroy hated more than anything else, it was the act of drinking alone. To her, such an act raises a litany of moral issues and opinions that she had developed over the years. It wasn't as though she never drank as a result; She and her friends would regularly get Thomson or some older kid to buy a couple of six packs or a bottle of whiskey to consume in the dead of night during the weekends.

Wendy had broken her secret of not mentioning this to anyone, but she told Dipper and Mabel about it, often regaling fun stories to the two up on the roof of the Shack, but making it a point to put up a bored, obligated disclaimer and her stiff ideas on drinking solo as she did.

"You gotta have your buds around, guys. It makes drinking so much better. Like, no joke, one time Robbie and Nate got so wasted they just started making out with each other. It was so hilarious. Tambry even recorded it too, so..."

So it came as a shock for all three of them early the next summer when Wendy was caught with a 22 ounce bottle of some potent brew up on the roof of the Shack.

Dipper had heard some pained moaning and went up to investigate, with Mabel trailing on his heels. His entrance was noisy, as he thought a family of wild critters had made some sort of nest up there, but his theory was destroyed and replaced by an overwhelming instinct to protect Wendy with the tightest, most frightened hug his noodly arms could muster. Mabel joined in quickly after, and the trio stayed that way until the racking sobs and howls wilted away and the sadness dulled into a massive, achy throb.

Dipper attempted to ask several times what was wrong, why was she doing this, but every time those questions were asked, the calm Wendy had been sliding into was jolted and another round of screaming wails proceeded. Dipper had to soon realize that this simply wasn't the time to ask questions. Maybe as she sobered up, but at the current time all he and Mabel could do was hold onto her and let her know she was cared for.

They helped her down from the roof once Wendy was quiet and settled her into Mabel's bed for the afternoon to cool off. The crying and continuing effects of the sedative tired Wendy out, and so she ended up napping away the next few hours, unaware of having either Dipper, Mabel, or both of them at once sitting by her side, worried sick of this very un-Wendylike behavior.

Wendy stirred and blinked her eyes open to the rotting raptures of the attic. She rubbed a hand against her face to try and work some of the drunken numbness out.

"Wendy?" Dipper shot up from the book he had only started reading.

"Yeah, dude?" She sat up and, realizing the reason she had gone up onto the roof in the first place, forced a tiny 'everything is totally fine' smile. She needed Dipper to buy it and hopefully he would move on and she could sweep this little incident under the rug as though she hadn't been found in depressed turmoil up on the roof.

"What was that earlier? Is there something wrong? Do you need anything?"

He didn't buy it.

What's more, Wendy came to the realization that if she knew her friend, he would get to the bottom of this somehow. Wendy wanted to stay silent on it all, yet she didn't want her friend to eventually try going around and asking what was up in an effort to quell his anxiety. She knew she'd get really upset at him for snooping into her personal life. She'd yell and shout and scream at him; She knew that. But, it'd really be her doing-- or rather not doing-- right here and now, of starting that erosion of trust.

Of all the days she was thinking of telling them about this aspect of her life, why did it have to be the day before the anniversary?

"Wendy?"

Wendy's attention snapped back to the environment around her, and as she smacked her lips she found the one truth she could say. "Ugh... mouth's feeling pretty gross. Gonna need a glass of water."

Dipper nodded and grunted out a response telling Wendy he'd be right back before he disappeared downstairs to fetch not only the water, but his sister as well. 

Wendy graciously took the glass out of Mabel's hands and drank the water down slowly. Too slowly. Each mouthful was pouched and played with her tongue until it was wholly swallowed down for another mouthful to take its place. Wendy really didn't feel like doing what she knew had to be done next. Of course she was wont to procrastinate on this, but how could she not? Whenever it felt like the perfect opportunity arose last summer, she hesitated and chickened out, despite these two being very dear, very close friends of hers. After all they had done to earn that place in her heart, they deserved the right to know.

But first, she had to drink this glass of water as slowly as she physically could. The twins looked at each other worryingly, and Wendy had to admit that, if anything, the twins now knew that at least some of her coolness was a facade. Much like someone she knew.

The last drop of water passed through Wendy's throat, and she steeled her nerves.

"I..." Wendy started. "I guess I should explain myself, don't I?" Both Dipper and Mabel nodded. "Gotta say, I don't wanna talk about this. But, I know that if I don't, you guys are going to go around snooping and searching for clues as to what's up with me, and I'd rather let you two in personally."

"Oh, man..." Dipper breathed. "Wendy, you don't have to tell us if it's that bad and, I promise, neither me or Mabel will go behind your back and so around town asking people if this meant anything. We can just drop the incident entirely."

"Yeah! We can just forget that this ever happened, Wendy. We don't need to know _everything_ about you."

Dipper frowned. "Though, I have to admit, I kinda am worried about what did happen. I mean, Wendy, you told us yourself that you _hate_ the idea of drinking alone, and you were crying when we found you doing just that. Did..." Dipper's face went white as a possible scenario rammed through. " Oh God, did someone do something to you?"

Wendy was still slightly impaired from the alcohol, but she did a small jump in surprise once she understood what Dipper meant. "Oh, no, dude! No one hurt me like that..." Wendy looked down at her pants leg. "Not like _that_ , anyway. It happened before I even met you guys."

"What are you saying?" Mabel asked.

Wendy softly closed her eyes and summoned up her courage. Gotta cross this threshold sometime. Here goes nothing.

"It's about my Mom."

The threshold was officially crossed. There was an uncomfortable, awkward silence that permeated the room. Wendy wished to have the twins respond to this as a form of guidance. If that was all they wanted, that'd be enough. If they wanted elaboration, then... well... Wendy's exhale was hitched.

"Your Mom?" Mabel finally was able to venture out. "What did she do?"

Dipper had his fingertips perched on his lips in apprehension. "We never even saw your Mom in any photos at your place. She left, right? I always thought she left. Just... I'm not dissing your Dad or your Mom or anything, but I'd always thought he drove your Mom so up the wall in some... some _way_ she had to leave or something."

"Well," Wendy sighed. "I guess I could give partial credit on that idea. She left, and I suppose that night Dad did drive her crazy, but..."

When Wendy didn't continue forth in that idea, instead opting to hang her head in a way to suggest utter defeat. It caused the twins to inch closer to her and sandwich her in on her perch at the edge of the bed. She didn't dare to let her closed eyes well up in tears. She didn't need to make Dipper and Mabel any more worried about her than they already were.

Mabel placed a caring hand on her shoulder "But what, Wendy?"

"She died later that night, you guys."

"But how di-...oh..." Dipper's eyes widened when the clues came together. "Oh my God," He whispered. "Wendy, that's... I'm so sorry."

Mabel had kept silent in puzzlement, though as she sensed that disturbance in her brother she came to that same conclusion, and placed a horrified hand over her mouth. That horror coalesced into some form of anger, however; Mabel ruffled up and slammed a hand into her bed.

"Why would she do that?! You are the most awesome person me and Dipper have ever met, and she had the gall to _hurt you_?!"

"Mabel, no, it wasn't like that," Dipper responded. "Wendy's Mom did not do it to hurt Wendy. She... I read a little about this. It sounded like she felt cornered from agony and didn't know what else to do... right?"

Wendy thought, then nodded. "Pretty much, Dipper. She fought in the war. Almost completed two tours, until she got her leg blown off." Dipper and Mabel both grimaced, but Wendy, nervous as she was, gave them a grin. "Hey, she got a hero's welcome when she came back, and for what it was worth, she really rocked those prosthetics. That wheelchair she had shoved in the corner was almost always covered in dust, no joke."

There was a certain amount of easiness that came with talking about her Mom that Wendy knew she had to milk for what it was worth before getting down to the dark stuff. It wasn't though this was for poor reason; Dipper and Mabel, unlike everyone else she told, knew nothing of her Mom, aside from the fact she was missing, so why not get a little distracted if it helped to prepare a little more? If it helped to explain everything better?

"And the unit she was in really loved her. Like, you think I get my toughness from my Dad? Well I got that _plus_ coolness from Mom. It was always like she was one of the guys no matter where she was. I mean... so... okay, so in this one letter back home, she said she totally socked some horny private trying to force his way into her pants and, seriously, the entire unit helped to cover it all up. It was always fun to read those letters, man. And she totally boasted about all those times she literally and figuratively saved lives during her time over there. Like, she really earned those medals. I was so proud of her, man."

"But, why did she go?" Mabel questioned.

"Well, she kinda had me when she was pretty young. I think she was twenty. And you've seen my brothers. Little guy just turned twelve this year. Mom loved all of us, and she was really cool, but she felt like she could do better for us. So, when I was eight, she made the choice to enlist and, once she was done, go off to get a degree. And when you say it like that, it sure sounds like it would've been all easy-peasy lemon squeezy, huh?"

Dipper nodded. "Sounds like it was well-thought out. She had intentions."

"Sure did. That's another thing I got from her. She was always pretty sharp, even after the whole getting her limb torn off incident also happened to give her a nasty concussion."

"Damn..." Dipper uttered. "She really went through a lot."

"Totally. But she got through that first year at the junior college nearby pretty well. Summer, fall _and_ spring."

"What was she going for?"

Wendy had to shrug. "Truth be told Mabel, she didn't know, but she wanted to get those general classes out of the way. Considered either going into psychology or film production, but she wasn't dead set on either. If you ask me, I could've seen her as part of a film crew much better than I could've seen her counseling people."

"Would've been neat if she went into film." Dipper said. "It's my intended career direction."

"Oh, man. Wouldn't it've been insane if you and my Mom worked on something?"

Dipper laughed along with Wendy. "It would've!"

The chuckle Wendy had gone into faded away, and she was left with a sense of dread. All of this reminiscing of happier times was turning out to help, in a way, but Wendy's trepidation only grew in time. She was afraid of having it grow any more, so she took in a deep breath.

"Okay, so..." She gulped. "Here's... this is what happened, you guys. No more dancing around the subject."

Dipper and Mabel drew all of their attention to their friend.

"We're ready." Mabel said.

Dipper nodded. "Go ahead. Take all the time you need."

Wendy closed her eyes again, tried to really clear her mind of her wants and fears of doing what she needed to do. She went for several more deep, cleansing breaths, letting the extra oxygen relax her muscles and, with the acknowledged assistance of the alcohol still making its rounds in her bloodstream, opened her mouth and spoke.

"Alright, so take everything I said into consideration. She had her leg blown off, and I'd learned she saw some friends die out there. Whatever she saw, whatever she did, it really affected Mom. She never let us know something was wrong, but whether she knew it or not, in retrospect she gave a ton of hints. She had pretty frequent nightmares, and several times, when I tagged along with her in public, she'd just have the absolute worst breakdowns and need to go home or somewhere private. She pretty much stole my earbuds Independence Day week. She just laughed it all off, though. Gave us reason not to worry about her too much, and when there wasn't anything that obviously would have bothered her, she kept her usual cool mom persona."

A certain fuzziness entered the corners of Wendy's mind; This was something she had to grow accustomed to when she really, truly, deeply thought about the events of that night. It was all a part of voluntarily opening that door in her head and gazing upon the mess therein.

"It was about a year after coming home it felt like she was starting to fall apart. Normally she'd be spiteful whenever she had to use her wheelchair, and be really vocal about it-- only thing that made her grumpy-- but those last few months she got more and more depressed and quiet when she had to use it. Mom couldn't focus on schoolwork as well. Nightmares became almost nightly, and if I woke up in the middle of the night and ninja'd my way toward the kitchen, I would see her take shots of whatever alcohol we had. When she caught me, Mom told me that she needed some help going to sleep, but, now that I think about it, three or four shots one after the other seems pretty excessive, wouldn't you say?"

Reality began to blur away, and Wendy could hear her voice less and less while some subconscious form of psychological defense turned on and commenced to "help" guide Wendy through the speaking portion of her task. However, as far as guiding her through the images, sounds, and sensations, she would be on her own.

"So, earlier that day, my Dad went out hunting, and bagged himself a deer. It was a pretty big one too. Mom was out in her modified car going to a long weekend class, so she had no knowledge of this. Dad prepared the deer and went ahead and grilled part of it for dinner. Mom got home right as dinner was ready, but didn't even glance into the kitchen. Needed about ten minutes to relax, settle in, take care of a few things, before she felt ready to eat..."

Wendy couldn't exactly tell if she had wholly retreated into the depths of her mind, but she could feel her mouth move in this strange, derealized state she had stumbled into while she described the imageries and memories pulled up as they happened.

She saw her thirteen-year-old self at the kitchen table. It was about mid-evening, and a feast of freshly killed deer had been cooked by her Dad and set on the table. She, her Dad, and her brothers were excited for this hefty meal. Wendy herself didn't mind about whether or not deer was technically in-season, but it was dinners like these, cooked by Dad, that always made these nights somewhat special.

A familiar walking pattern signaled to them all of their approaching house matriarch, and once that redhead limped her way into view, Wendy smiled.

"Hey, Mom!" She pointed to the food before them. "Dad shot a deer for dinner."

Wendy realized too late on how, lately, her Mom's mood had been darkening. When Mom wasn't careful, she had snapped at each of them, though she quickly reigned herself in and rebuilt her increasingly obvious mask of normalcy in hopes that no one could tell of her increasing agitation. Wendy realized too late that maybe she shouldn't have said the word 'shot' to the veteran. If there was one word that tended to hijack her Mom's behavior, it was that. But she forgot this time around. Her Mom made a grimace at the meat before her, then a disgusted sneer.

"Dan," She finally started. "What did I tell you about this?"

Wendy's Dad was genuinely hurt by his wife's harshness. "But it's deer, Sam! It's meat! It's gonna help feed us for weeks!"

"You killed something, Dan." His wife said flatly.

"For food!"

"We have plenty of food, Dan!" She growled. "I just went out the other day! You know that!"

Dan shifted his eyes about rapidly. It was obvious he had been caught. "D-deer season would've ended by the time we needed more! And besides, you never tell us when we need to get more food!"

"I think that an empty fridge is indication enough, Dan!"

"Sam, I-"

His wife slammed the kitchen table with an incredible force. "DO YOU THINK KILLING OTHER LIVING BEINGS IS OKAY?!"

Dan was sweating at this time, realizing he hit a raw nerve in his Sam, but he went to point something out. "This is natural order! This is different!"

"Bullshit! This was all for fun, you ass!"

"Well..." Dan exhaled. "Well, it's dead now! Might as well eat it!"

"Here's what I think of that idea!"

The center plate, heavy with a deer's hind leg, was picked up and thrown one-handedly from the table. The porcelain shattered into irrecoverable shards, and the torn-into, juicy meat slid partially down the wall and onto the floor with a thud. Despite her handicap, Samantha had completed the motion without losing an iota of balance.

Wendy gave a glance at her brothers of uncomfortable fear from a very unexpected and traumatic source, and her brothers took her message to retreat into the living room. Wendy stayed, though now standing up and inching towards the kitchen exit, while her father stared at the mess made and, taking it in with his own morals, started to get angry himself.

"Sam, seriously?! Do you think you're respecting the deer's life like this?!"

Samantha jabbed a finger into a huge chest. "Do you think YOU were when you shot it?!"

"Sam, you're scaring the children!"

"Dan, answer the question!" Sam snarled.

Dan spat back. "Only if you answer yours!"

Wendy winced for her father when a tight fist hooked him in the nose. She wasn't sure whether to step backward into the relative safety of the living room or move forward to try and get her parents to stop fighting; Surely, the latter would embroil her into this mess as well, but this was a mess that she had started. She knew her father's strength and endurance, and she knew her Mom still loved watching fights on TV-- If only she told Mom that Dad had beaten the deer to death this situation would have never formed.

So she stepped forward.

"Mom, Dad, calm down. You two are acting like children!"

"Takes one to know one."

That snide remark by her Mom finally set off Dan, and he slugged her across the face. The scowl burned on his face quivered at the realization of his action, but as he opened his mouth to apologize, another punch to his face connected, this time to the jaw.

"Guys, knock it off!"

Wendy got herself in between her parents and spread her lanky arms wide to try and keep the quarreling duo from getting any closer.

"Wendy, get OUT of the way!" warned her Mom. "Your father and I can deal with this ourselves!"

"No you can't! You guys are punching each other! I don't think you two know what you're doing, and you guys need to calm down before this gets out of contr-!"

"SHUT UP."

Wendy was knocked to the floor by a smartly aimed punch to the face by her mother. She wouldn't remember the physical sting of the attack as she does the emotional; Her Mom, the coolest person she knew, one that was always so loving and protective and awesome, had just hooked her in the jaw.

It was then she scampered out of the room and urged her brothers to take cover in their respective rooms, but again kept herself in a forward position, barely peeking through the entrance, witnessing the brawl that quickly unfolded once she went for cover. Dad had been infuriated by his wife's attack on their child and retaliated once he thought she was gone, which caused her Mom to go all-out. Punches were thrown, plates were hurled; Samantha at one point brandished a steak knife but dropped it in the chaos. Insults and vile swears were shouted at one another. Sure, these were words Wendy had heard her parents utter to each other before, but almost always in playful, trusting gestures. These two were made for each other from the start, and yet here they were, killing each other.

The fight only ended when a shove had Samantha tumble backwards and a snap of broken wood echoed through the room. Dan stopped, and stepped back while his wife tried to stand on a broken prosthetic, only to fall over. She struggled again and again to stand, but kept trying to put weight on the fake limb until it was too shattered to even attempt a stopgap repair for it. Dan crept forward.

"Sam? Honey? I'm... do you need any hel-"

"No!" Her voice cracked. "Just... just leave me here, alright, Dan?"

Wendy stealthily retreated back to her room and silently shut the door behind her. She knew her father would try to reason with her mother now that any more fighting would be heavily one-sided. She could hear her Mom shriek at Dad as he did, and it felt like the moments after a tornadic storm; It was over, but it all felt too unreal and dangerous still to poke out. The rain was still falling hard, the wind whipping about too harshly.

Eventually, the house went completely silent, save for the soft sobbing of her Mom. Wendy and her brothers were brought together by their bruised-up Dad in her room. He was very, very hangdog in his expression and body language. He wasn't good with words, but he apologized to everyone about what had happened. He put in effort to be objective, not always succeeding, but his message got across: He had no idea what got into their mother, but it felt like something was deeply wrong with her, and once it was morning he'd try talking to her about it. He guessed it had something to do with her combat experiences, yet he wasn't sure himself. She had been so cheerful and inspiring and herself after coming home that he'd been surprised at her the past couple of weeks.

Dan commended Wendy for protecting her younger brothers and having them leave before it got terrible in there, for trying bravely to stop the fight, and he showed deep regret at hurting his wife and kids like this. After promising never to raise his fists at anyone in his household again, his oldest son asked if that included roughhousing. Dan had to laugh as his sons all tackled him in a mock fight of forgiveness while he yelled and cackled that they got him. Wendy smiled at her Dad, still shaken up but letting him know his apology was accepted by her, if only partially. Dan even opted to order pizza, an extreme rarity, as another form of apology, and to replace the dinner that had been ruined.

It was later still into the evening that Wendy could hear her mother's quiet, unnervingly meek voice go around her brothers' rooms to offer her own begging at forgiveness. Wendy could feel her Mom's presence outside her door for a long time before a shaky knock rapped at her door.

"Wendy? Can I come in?"

Wendy hadn't forgotten about the battle several hours prior. The punch still stung fiercely, though nowhere near as much as the mental impact it had made. Just everything about the incident made her angry at her Mom. To Wendy, there was no excuse for her to go off like that over something so simple, trauma or not.

The door creaked minutely open, and Wendy could see her Mom was getting around on that wheelchair Mom loathed so much, and Wendy nodded in pity. She cleared a small path for Mom to wheel herself in, and shut the door behind her before sitting down on her bed while Mom situated herself to the side, facing her only daughter.

"Wendy, I'm... I don't know what to say."

"How about 'I'm sorry'?" Wendy spat. "What was that all about?"

"Wendy, I'm very, very sorry. Please understand that."

"Yeah. Right."

"You're..." Her Mom sighed dejectedly. "Making this difficult for me. I... I'm starting to realize that all that fighting in the war messed me up bad, and hiding things are only making it worse."

"Still no reason to punch me and Dad!"

"I know. I'm really sorry. I need you to forgive me."

"You hurt Dad. You hurt my brothers. You hurt me. I don't need to give you any forgiveness. Dad isn't completely off the hook either, but at least he didn't yell and sock me in the face."

"Bu-"

Wendy turned her back on her Mom, and seethed. "Talk to me tomorrow. Maybe my opinion'll change then."

"Wendy, if it means anything, I'll get help. I did bad things overseas, and I did bad things here, tonight. I don't want to ever have what happened tonight happen again. It's the least I can do."

"Just go."

"Wend-"

"GO."

Wendy glanced at her Mom, and she looked like she had seen some unseen horror. Rejections between family had always happened, but not of this caliber. This had to have hurt her Mom more than anything else that night, but through the shunning, her Mom still wheeled herself backwards and awkwardly let herself out, not saying a word more.

Wendy knew she was being difficult, pretty much on purpose. She wanted her space so she could understand what happened. After a night of sleep, she'd deal with her Mom in more favorable terms. Deep down, though tarnished from the night's events, Wendy still loved her Mom. She had been through hell in an effort to make all their lives better in the end, but it was obvious now she was really, really struggling.

Sleep came a little easier than it should have been that night, but Wendy found herself somehow being roused at around 4 in the morning with an ill feeling in her stomach. There was a gnawing instinct that something wasn't right. Someone had visited her at the door, but there was no evidence aside from that general uneasiness she had.

Wendy got out of bed and noted the lights in the kitchen were still on when she stepped out of her room. She quietly, slowly padded her way down the hall, and like the skirmish earlier, she peeked ever-so-carefully past the threshold.

Her Mom's back was turned to her, still in her wheelchair. The kitchen had been cleaned of any evidence of the fight, but there was a fresh notebook placed on the table, opened to a page filled in ink with words and scratched out statements, and a bottle of vodka, bought earlier in the week but, until now, never opened. Wendy looked back up to her Mom, and realized her hands were both gripped on something that was pushing against her lower jaw. 

"M-?"

Had she called out a fraction of a second sooner, maybe things would have been different. Maybe her Mom would still be alive, healing and maybe happy. But the question came too late. A loud bang reverberated through the cabin house, shaking the sleeping men and boys awake, but only went into full alertness at their daughter and sister screaming. Wendy had shut her eyes a little too late and saw some of the event unfurl in front of her eyes. It was enough to brand into her mind. She could only remember bits and pieces after that; Her Dad was shouting at Samantha to wake up, at the boys to stand back, to not look, at 911 to get here quickly because his wife just shot herself. She felt her Dad's burly arms wrap around and gently rock her as he told her an empty promise that things would be okay.

She remembered the weapon that was used; It was the pistol from the master bedroom, to be used only if some unhinged maniac tried breaking in. It wasn't some unfounded fear; It had happened before.

She remembered the ambulance rushing off, but she had been forced to stay behind by the police that had shown up. They preferred for her to be wrapped up in her blanket, clutching onto one of her old stuffed animals, doing whatever they could to ease her down from what she had witnessed, but still, as the sun rose, kneeling down to tell her of the bad news; Her Mom was declared dead at the hospital ten minutes ago, at around 5 am.

Wendy would learn in time what those bad things her Mom claimed she did overseas was, once she was allowed to read the note; She had placed so much blame and responsibility for friends' deaths and dismemberments on herself, and she felt tortured that her own mutilation wasn't fatal. She felt any attempt at retribution since returning fell short. To Wendy, those weren't bad things. And regarding the domestic fight in those terms... well... it didn't excuse her Mom, but it was put in a different perspective that could have been realized sooner.

When something could have been done.

Wendy wasn't sure when she came back, but she felt the twin hugging of both younger Pines wrap her tight. There were tears in her eyes and her nose was so thick with mucus it was dripping. By the wetness she also felt in impossible angles, Wendy realized that both Dipper and Mabel had been crying as well.

Crying for her.

She felt so wracked, so weakened, so nauseous like when she was found on the roof, but it was so much more intense now. It was hard to breathe between being compressed and her lungs hiccuping and hitching. As she came back to reality, though, the hugs were felt on an emotional level, and produced a calming effect on Wendy. She spoke when it felt like she could physically speak.

"I n-n-need to hor-ork."

There was a rapid ushering to the bathroom, where both twins still hung on, hands on her shoulders and holding hair back, as Wendy sicked herself into the toilet. She grabbed at the toilet paper when she was done, blowing her nose until it was dry and tossing it all in with the vomit. Mabel offered more water, which Wendy took with just as much thanks as before. Finally, past her exhaustion and the last vestiges of alcohol, she looked up at the twins for the first time since zoning out. Both were very saddened, and very incredibly concerned for her. Considering the fact that she had witnessed her Mom kill herself and told these two that fact, Wendy wasn't too shocked. But, it pained her seeing them so worked up; Mabel was just about ready to erupt again at a moment's notice.

"So, hey. I'm... I'm sorry I brought you guys down like that. I could've gone without several details, but I kinda tranced out. Like, it sounds like one of those defense mechanisms I hear about."

"No, Wendy. Don't be sorry." Dipper knelt down. "This... hearing all of this actually explains a lot. Why you hate senseless fighting, why your family stresses you out a lot, why you cover all that stress up... why you hate drinking alone. It explains so much about you."

Mabel joined her brother. "I wish none of that happened to you, though. You're such a great person. It's really unfair."

"Life's pretty unfair, Mabel." Wendy sighed. "Best thing I've learned is if I can't fight it to just deal with it."

Dipper had a worrying expression etch into him. "I just realized. You're not trying to hide things like your Mom did, are you?"

Wendy bit the inside of her cheek. "I... I guess I kinda do. But, I don't think it's quite as bad as Mom's was. A lot of days now I can just not think about it. Like, I can just put it all in a room inside my head and shut the door. Though, when it gets out it's hard to get it back in." Wendy watched Dipper and Mabel nod and acknowledge this. "Usually, what sets it off is either remembering her... that... d-dying..." Wendy swallowed a lump. "O-or when the anniversary comes up..."

Wendy closed her eyes to focus on keeping the door shut. Maybe this wasn't the healthiest way to deal with the trauma, not the most sustainable, but there was a certain zen to be had when the latch clicked shut and the door didn't give. The imagery of having all of that contained was meditative.

"It's gonna be tomorrow. Three whole years." Wendy mused. "If anything, guys, I really wish I could have been less of a little shit that night for her. Sometimes I think back and wonder if she'd still be here if I just accepted her apology."

"You shouldn't think like that!" Mabel reprimanded. "You shouldn't ever think like that, Wendy! It might not have been enough to keep your Mom from doing what she did. You're blaming yourself on what happened, but she'd been suffering silently for months! For all we know, a cuckoo clock could have set her off!"

"Mabel's right." Dipper agreed. "You two fought, and objectively, that's as much as you know about your Mom before she decided to commit suicide. And, really, people can influence other people, but only you can decide on what you want to do. I wish your Mom had gotten help sooner, but what she did was also her own final decision. You can say it's your fault, but look at your Mom; That's what she thought on the terrible things she went through, and it led her down somewhere dark and isolating. Do you really want to go in that same direction?"

"No Dipper. And don't worry; I don't think I plan on going there anytime soon. Like I said, dude, I've gotten to where, like, 99% of the time I can just not think about this and go about my daily life. I kinda know it's pointless to think about what-ifs." Wendy spread her arms out and attacked both twins in a hug. "You guys, though. I picked out some good friends, am I right? I yammer on some heavy stuff and you're both here making sure I get plenty of water and positive reinforcement."

"Actually, positive rein-"

Mabel interrupted her brother. "Who cares, Dipdop? She's right, isn't she?"

"Uh..." Dipper chuckled. "Yeah. Yeah, Wendy is!"

The hug ended not too long after, and after a second too long of silence, Wendy cleared her throat.

"You guys... wanna go meet her tomorrow?"

\---

It was about half past noon when the Pines twins made their way to the cemetery entrance. Wendy was there, and waved at them as they approached. Nothing was said, and Wendy led the two past the gates and through the various, meandering paths. The day was turning out gorgeously, nary a cloud in the sky. The light rain that had lifted after sunrise was still felt by happy little birds, having their stomachs filled by tasty worms and thus chirping out their little tunes with more vigor. The trio took a turn into a section, and Wendy slowed down in reverence until she stopped at her Mom's gravestone: Samantha Corduroy's. The etchings in the stone itself was a little unusual in comparison to a civilian's; There was a military branch, as well as an official title attached to the small list of awards and kind words a regular grave would have. There were fresh flowers laid in front of the marker.

"Told you I'd be back later today, Mom." She gestured Dipper and Mabel forward. "This is Dipper and Mabel. They're pretty great friends of mine. Told you a lot about them, remember? Like the whole Weirdmageddon thing late last summer? They're kinda big damn heroes around here. Much like you."

Wendy paused; Dipper and Mabel waved and greeted the grave as though its owner was still alive. The two were very awkward at this, but Wendy was willing to teach them a thing or two on talking to the dead.

"Wendy, why are there flowers here?" Mabel asked.

"Me, Dad and my brothers came around literally at the crack of dawn. Dad likes to get us all here as soon as the place opens up so it's accurate as much as it can be with her... you know... time."

Wendy went in and sat down next to the grave, inviting the twins to do the same. The ground was still ever-so-slightly damp, but Wendy at least didn't mind.

"So I finally got around to telling them about you yesterday, Mom. Explained what happened. Kinda had to after they found me being super depressed and really not myself." Wendy chuckled. "Yeah... but, really, I'm thinking of telling them some happier stories right about now. Or, if they want, they can tell you some stuff."

"I, uh, heard you thought about, umm, wanting to go into film production?"

Dipper looked at Wendy, asking silently if this was okay; Wendy nodded in approval, and Dipper rambled on. Soon, Mabel joined in, and mirrored Wendy's naturalness in speaking to a stone in no time. Stories were passed around, and many laughs were had between the three until late into the afternoon. Dipper and Mabel had to eventually leave, but they were grateful to Wendy for this experience. It was wistful, sad, but the two expressed, in different ways, how they imagined this helped her. It was as though, Dipper mentioned, speaking to the grave pulled out a certain personality into the air.

Wendy was left alone not long after waving goodbye to her friends. She turned to the grave, and spoke to it further.

"I've been doing a lot of thinking, Mom. It's pointless to change the past. You're dead. You did it yourself, and I can... a-attest to that. But it's not like you're gone forever. Don't know if you're floating around protecting us, but you certainly know when to pop up, huh?"

A warm breeze answered.

"You might not have thought yourself as such, and you did make several mess ups, but you were, in the end, always a hero to us."

That warm breeze gently continued and glanced softly across Wendy's face.

"Love you too, Mom."


End file.
